


Nightcall

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Death, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, Tiny Steve, winter soldier - Freeform, winter soldier and his willowy boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1516580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is good," James says a little surprised and his fingertips rest on a white space of paper while he looks at the black lines that form his face, half-hidden by his shoulder-long hair. It looks dangerous. It looks lonely. It looks- </p><p>"I mean I can give it to you and you--wait, what?" Little guy says in confusion, then knits his eyebrows together before it eases into something quite pleased. "Thank you. It's just a quick sketch, but--I hope you don't mind me saying that, but this metal prosthesis of yours is quite remarkable." </p><p>"You have a strange taste in men," James replies without thinking and when he realizes what he is doing he hands over the sketch pad as quickly as possible. He does not flirt with people nor does he try to find out more about their tastes that easily. Not anymore.</p><p>Little guy just smiles, looks at him with blue, blue eyes and says, "Well, what are your tastes, then?"</p><p>///////</p><p>A.k.a The Winter Soldier goes out and finds himself his very own willowy boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little thing that will have two or three (or more) chapters because the idea of tall, broody Winter Soldier being utterly devoted to his brave, tiny boyfriend haunted my dreams.  
> Title taken from Kavinsky's "Nightcall".  
> Oh, and "milij" is a Russian endearment and means something like "honey" or "dear", at least as far as I know.  
> Enjoy!

James does not like going out, not anymore. Still, Tony drags him into several clubs during the week, hoping to get him to have some fun, maybe go home with someone else.

Today, the music is especially loud and noisy in James's ears. He is nursing his third drink, watching Tony and Bruce getting it on at the dance floor and considers just getting up and leaving when he catches the guy in the corner of the booth beside him. He is slim and blond, with a ridiculously handsome face wearing a concentrated expression and frail hands that remind James of small birds.

Most important of all, he is drawing.

James watches him for another moment, utterly bewildered by that little guy in the middle of a booming club, just drawing with his knees drawn up to his chest and a sketch pad put at his knees. It takes him another moment to realize _what_ the little guy is drawing and he only realizes it when little guy looks up at him and their eyes meet briefly. 

With a grunt, he downs his glass of vodka and gets up to slip into the booth of little guy. Little guy jumps a little, but even though James is about a head bigger and a lot more muscular than him, he raises his chin and regards him with a look that holds the same power James has seen on Officers in the army. 

"Hi," He says and it is funny because his voice sounds raspy by accident, but little guy looks at him in baffled amazement. "Are you drawing me?"

"Yes," Little guy replies immediately without hesitating or bullshitting him for a second and then flushes bright red, but he hands over the sketch pad. He has a surprisingly deep, strong voice that carries over the music easily, James notes a little absently. "I'm sorry. I should've asked first, but--you know, you were--if I would've asked, it wouldn't have been the same. I intended to go up to you and tell you I drew you afterwards, but, uh, sorry." 

"This is good," James says a little surprised and his fingertips rest on a white space of paper while he looks at the black lines that form his face, half-hidden by his shoulder-long hair. It looks dangerous. It looks lonely. It looks- 

"I mean I can give it to you and you--wait, what?" Little guy says in confusion, then knits his eyebrows together before it eases into something quite pleased. "Thank you. It's just a quick sketch, but--I hope you don't mind me saying that, but this metal prosthesis of yours is quite remarkable." 

"You have a strange taste in men," James replies without thinking and when he realizes what he is doing he hands over the sketch pad as quickly as possible. He does not flirt with people nor does he try to find out more about their tastes that easily. Not anymore.

Little guy just smiles, looks at him with blue, blue eyes and says, "Well, what are your tastes, then?"

//////

They have coffee a week later.

James does not do coffee. Nor does he wear Nice Shirts, but as it is he is wearing a Very Nice Shirt that apparently brings out his natural advantages, as Natasha put it. Last but not least, he does not do coffee and wear Very Nice Shirts for civilians. 

Little guy's name is Steve and he has the nicest smile James has ever seen because he smiles like he really means it every damn time. When he comes in and sits down across the table from him, smooths down his hair and peels himself out of scarf and thick jacket, James cannot help but notice how quickly he could kill him. Steve is pale enough that the veins are embedded into his skin like rivers carved into snowy mountains. When he wraps his hands around a big mug steaming with tea, James notices carefully clipped, clean fingernails and finds himself slightly smiling out of some strange reason. 

Steve is a little awkward and shy enough to stumble his way through words while James silently sips his coffee and smiles at that strange, attractive guy in front of him. He is surprised to find that he feels good; he does not even mind the other people too much. His metal arm is hidden underneath a long sleeve and gloves and most people don't know much about the Winter Soldier's appearance except that he has long dark hair and a cybernetic arm, so nobody bothers him as well. 

Apparently, Steve does not really bother either. James does not know what to make out of that. 

//////

Three days later James is wearing a Very Nice T-Shirt and they are having coffee again, only this time they are at Steve's tiny, but beautiful apartment that is crammed with canvas and sunlight and medicaments. 

"I've got some pretty bad asthma," Steve tells him and James looks at the small blue dots of paint splattered all over his nose while he talks, pale hands fluttering in the air like lively birds. "Sometimes even sunlight is hard for me to bear. Then I get sick a lot as well, fever and whatever disease there is in the world. God knows I had pneumonia alone seven times already. Jesus, I'm a train wreck. You _sure_ you want to get to know me better?"

"Could I have some more coffee?" James asks and watches Steve smile. 

//////

"Okay, who is he or she?" Natasha demands to know. James notices Tony perk up on the couch and rolls his eyes.

"Nobody," He answers because he feels a strange, irrational wave of protectiveness; Steve is his. He is not sure what exactly he is for him, but he is his, every bit of fierce will and frail body. 

"Nobody," Natasha echoes and raises an eyebrow. "Milij, yesterday I caught you trying different hairstyles. You never style your hair. You just get out of bed and rake your fingers through it."

"I'll tell you when there is something to tell," James says and wonders if he should maybe cut his hair or if Steve likes it the way it is.

"Jesus Christ," Natasha says with audible amazement, "I think you're _dating_ someone."

James huffs and leaves the Avengers Mansion. He has to buy some paintbrushes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta admit, I would have NEVER guessed that people like this little idea so much, I am overwhelmed by the love I got so far, thank you all so much for your lovely feedback! I hope the new update won't disappoint too much. :)  
> Enjoy!

The first time Steve calls him Bucky, James stares at him silently for a long, long while until Steve spills his milk all over the kitchen floor in embarrassment.

"Does it... Okay, I'm sorry. I just thought, you know, James is a pretty name, but so serious and Buchanan is just... Never mind, I'll just stop using it." 

"It's fine," James says eventually because really, Steve can call him anything and Bucky is not even that bad. He has never been anything else but the Winter Soldier first and James second. He does not know if he can be a Bucky, but the fact that there is someone who sees past the Winter Soldier, past _James_ -

Actually, it makes him smile.

//////////

When Steve opens the door, he starts swearing as soon as he sees James covered in blood. "What the ever-loving fuck did you do?!"

"Haven't watched the news, huh?" James rasps and allows Steve to pull him into his apartment with surprising strength for his lanky body. His head aches and blood dips all over the floor. He is almost sorry for sitting down on Steve's couch, but Steve just ushers him onto it and drags out a massive aiding kit. 

"I have, yes," Steve confesses while he patches him up with meticulous care. "I worry so much about you whenever I do while the Avengers are protecting the city. I wish I could… I wish I could do something else besides sitting around and waiting for your return like a…well, anyways. I don’t like it."

"You worry about me?" James asks with surprise. "That is...kinda cute and kinda flattering." There is so much else he should say; _it doesn't matter_ , probably, or, _I like you the way you are, there is no need to change_ , but he does not know how, so this rather clumsy attempt at flirting will have to suffice. He used to be good at this, he remembers, at smiling and flirting and dancing, holding girls with twirling skirts and flushed skin in his arms; it is a shame that the only thing Steve gets is a mere shadow of this ability, but Steve does not seem to mind much because his nose gets a little pink and it is adorable. It is even more adorable when James gets lightly shoved and he smiles despite the deep gash on his chest that starts to bleed a little more.

"Don't be a jerk," Steve mutters and James's smile broadens.

He sleeps on Steve's couch that night and he has no nightmares. 

/////////

"Sorry," Steve rasps over the telephone; his breath is heavy enough that he struggles with every word. "I have to cancel coffee today, I'm not feeling very well." 

"I'll come over," James says, ignores Steve's breathlessly whispered protest and jams his phone into the pocket of his jeans and leaves Avengers Mansion to steal one of Tony's cars and drive to Steve's tiny, lovely apartment. After he knocked, it takes a while until the door is opened for him. 

There are red blotches all over Steve's face and sweat on his forehead, but he still smiles weakly when he sees James and coughs. "I'm no fun today, Buck, really."

James has never needed to take care of someone sick before, but he vaguely remembers tucking in long-dead younger sisters back when he was a teenager; it is not much, but it will have to do. With a shake of his head he herds Steve back into the apartment and wrestles him into his bed while ignoring breathless protests. He helps Steve prop himself up onto the pillows and then goes to make some tea. When he comes back, Steve is still struggling to breathe, but at least he has an inhalator at his lips now. James carefully places the cup at his night table before he drags a chair to his bed and sits down. 

Steve laughs and it is entirely raspy; James watches him close his eyes and instinctively leans forward to brush blond hair out of his sweaty forehead. Steve smiles and looks up at him before he says very quietly, "You're so nice. I like you a lot."

"How much?" James asks and maybe it is a little teasing and maybe his heart beats a little faster, but he does not move. 

Steve shrugs and sighs, causing him to cough again. "Too much, I'm afraid."

"Too much?"

Steve cracks a small smile. "Yeah. Guys like you never fall for guys like me."

"Steve," James says almost with a laughter, "Do you think I go for coffee with you so often because I like the stuff so much?" 

///////////

"So have you guys done it already?"

"Jesus, Nat," James groans and lays his head onto the table. Natasha laughs and pats his head.

"You're smiling an awful lot these days, James," She says softly, "I'm happy to see you like this. Whoever he is, he must be amazing."

"He is," James says and closes his eyes when he thinks of Steve's pretty face. "I'm not worthy to be with him."

"Well, apparently he likes you anyway," Natasha says and maybe--maybe that is something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so,so,so,so grateful for and happy about the ridiculous amounts of love and support "Nightcall" gets. Thank you all so very much, I hope this update brings joy to most of you <3  
> Also, I have to warn that this is NSFW. So if you don't like that, you can just skip it!  
> Now enjoy! :D

"Okay, uh," Steve says a little breathlessly when James lightly shoves him onto the bed and crawls over him but stops when Steve starts speaking. "Okay, this is very awkward, but, uh. I haven't. Exactly. Been around. If you know what I mean." 

"That's fine, I don't have much experience with men either," James says frankly because it is true; usually, women interest him more, which does not mean that there has not been the occasional guy in his bed. 

"No, it's," Steve hesitates and reddens a little more, "I have never, uh. You know. With anyone." 

"Oh," James says and then instantly panics a little because if this is Steve's first time he has to be gentle with him and he has no idea how to be gentle, has not had it since he was young. He only goes for those who like it rough, usually, makes things easier. "Okay. That's... Okay."

But there has to be something wrong with his tone of voice because Steve's eyes harden with humiliation and his head turns away as he tries to wriggle away from James. "Maybe this is a bad idea, you're obviously not up for that." 

"Steve, it's really okay," James says hastily because he has the feeling that he has only one chance to turn this around, so he decides to be bold because he is too panicked to try diplomacy and takes Steve's hand to put it onto his crotch, biting his lips when he feels Steve's warmth against his cock through the fabric of his jeans. "I'm very up for that."

"Oh," Steve says quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes as if he could not believe that James really wanted him. 

"I'm just not, I'm not very good at gentle, but I'll try, okay? I'm sorry if I--" James realizes he is rambling and when has he rambled the last time? With a sigh, he breathes in deeply and tries again by just kissing Steve a little awkwardly. Steve responds to it like a hungry man responding to a bowl of rice and it turns out that he may not have ever slept with someone else, but that definitely does not mean that he did not have some training in kissing. James likes it a lot, almost as much as he likes how Steve's legs fall open for him with a little hesitance so he can settle comfortably between them, resting his weight on his hands placed at the mattress at both sides of Steve's head. When they part, Steve's breath is a little harsher and panic sparks in James again, panic that he may have caused an asthma attack, but then Steve smiles and runs his fingertips along the muscles of his right arm.

"Jesus, Buck, you're bulked," he says with adoration in his voice and James cannot help but shiver when his slender fingers touch the scar tissue around the place where metal meets skin. James thinks of all the ways he could kill Steve now easily; instead, he leans over him so he can protect him from everything. He likes the idea so much that he smiles and leans down to steal another kiss from Steve before he carefully lifts the t-shirt Steve is wearing over his head. 

He is beautiful, James thinks, all soft, unmarred skin and blue veins. His collarbones are visible enough that he can lick at the hollows they form and he feels Steve shiver; instinctively, he curls around him some more and licks at his pale throat, sucking deep, red bruises into it with care before he can stop himself. However, Steve does not seem to mind much; he makes a tiny little noise at the back of his throat and Bucky feels him swallow, delicate fingers gripping his shirt and unbuttoning it with obvious determination. For a virgin, Steve is quite confident, James thinks and he likes it because it means that Steve feels safe with him. 

"Wow, look at you," Steve breathes when he finally has him out of his shirt and his slender fingers dance along Bucky's shoulders, the glinting metal of his left arm, along the muscles of his chest and down his rips. "A piece of art." 

"Not as much as you," James answers and bends down to suck a pretty, rosy nipple into his mouth. He can feel Steve buck underneath him, hears him swear while he tongues the nipple to hardness and pinches the other one until both are red and puffy. A hand fists itself into his hair, pulling on several strands and he growls a little because he likes it, likes how easy being gentle can be. He unbuckles Steve's belt while he works his tongue on the other nipple and thinks that he wants to serve Steve, wants to make him happy, only that he does not know how. He barely knows himself most days; there is not much he can give Steve except this- being gentle with him as much as he is able to. Protecting him from the world by using his own body as a shield between Steve and the world, no matter whether Steve likes it or not. 

It is awfully little he can give him, but maybe Steve wants it anyway. 

When they're finally both naked, James takes his time to slide his hands over sharp hipbones and prominent rips, smooth skin like velvet underneath his fingertips. When he bends down to press several tiny little kisses along the inner sides of Steve's thigh, he can hear his lover swear again quite breathlessly. It is not hard to do this slowly, James thinks while he gently sinks his teeth into Steve's hips, not when Steve's breath is harsh and his chest is heaving from the additional work his lung has to do to get him enough air. 

"Are you okay?" he asks with a voice that is a little rougher than usual and Steve laughs a little breathlessly, fingertips softly touching James's face.

"Yes," Steve says and gasps when James laps along his very pretty cock, sucking the tip into his mouth while he gently fondles Steve's balls. He holds Steve's hips down without effort and feels his lover struggle against his grip while stifled curses escape his lips, and he is too focused on wrapping his human hand around the base of Steve's cock to bring him more friction to feel his own hardness much. Instead, he idly rubs himself against the sheets and it is fine, it is more than fine, until Steve tugs lightly at his hair. 

"Bucky," he says breathlessly,"Buck, if you keep this up, I'm gonna-"

"Good," James answers and smiles because that is exactly what he wants. He wants to go back to work, but Steve wraps his beautiful, long fingers around his wrist.

"I want you inside me first," he says and it is so beautifully and surprisingly bold that James stares at him for a while before he fully understands the implication and instantly panics again, torn between desire and worry. 

"I..."

"I can take it," Steve says and his breath is very harsh, but his eyes are so determined that James finds himself nodding before he can properly think about it. 

"Alright," he says, thoughts racing before he sits up, fishes for the recently bought lube and a condom and places himself in a sitting position with his back against the wall before he gently drags Steve into his lap. Steve climbs onto it willingly and full of trust, wrapping his arms around James's neck and nuzzling his cheek against his human shoulder. 

"I am a little nervous," he admits while James warms the lube between his human fingers and James smiles a little when Steve hides his face against his neck. He can feel Steve's rapid pulse against his skin when he slides one finger into him, carefully, ever so carefully because Steve is tight until he slowly gives in to him.

James takes his time and listens to Steve's sweet curses while he stretches him as gently as he would have wished to be prepared the first time he was on the receiving end of this, softly kissing Steve's face wherever he can. He is not a romantic type, not by far, but he pulls a blanket over Steve's back with his metal arm so that he is not cold and then wraps the arm around his slim waist to draw him closer. Steve places his slender hands at James's chest, stroking and caressing and kneading the flesh and James has to muffle a moan when he finally pulls his fingers out and puts on the condom. 

Despite the thorough preparation, Steve bites his lips in nervousness when he feels the head of James's cock against his entrance and James does not know what he can do to make it better, so he slowly strokes Steve's hair until his lover hesitantly moves on his own, taking in the first inch of James. Though he tries not to show it, James catches him wincing a little and puts his hands on Steve's hip so that he can control their pace, pushing into Steve slowly, ever so slowly, until he is fully seated into him and feels the way Steve's body starts to accommodate him.

"Good?" he asks roughly and Steve nods, his breath a little better than before because of the change of position but his eyes are a little hesitant albeit wanting, so James gives both of them a few moments, wraps Steve more securely into the blanket and closes his arms around him, pulling him against his chest. Safety and warmth, he thinks while he slowly starts to roll his hips and moans when Steve hesitantly starts to move his hips up and down as well, obviously liking the control he has in this position. Security and warmth and heat and desire and he wants to give Steve everything, wants to keep him forever, to forever hold him close like this and protect him from everything in this world. 

He does not know where these thoughts come from. Maybe it does not matter much, not when he hears Steve cry out in ecstasy mere minutes later and follows him so willingly into a sweet, sweet little death, into sweet, sweet oblivion, only if for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for your continued support and the love you share for this universe! I am sorry that it took me so long to update, but RL was a bitch in the last months.  
> Hope you'll enjoy the new update! :D

"I had him on the ropes," Steve croaks while Bucky gently dabs at the gash on his cheek, burning with cold fury inside. "Really, Buck. You didn't have to-"

"Why didn't you call me?" Bucky interrupts him and lowers his hand to stare grimly at his boyfriend. 

Steve, God damn and bless him, blinks at him with something like utter astonishment, as if the thought of calling James for help never even slightly occurred to him. Knowing Steve, that is probably even the truth. "Why should I've called you?"

_Because I'm bigger and stronger and more menacing than you_ , James wants to say; he feels the words on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill over his lips, but he swallows them all, swallows them and locks them away. "Because I could have helped you." 

"Told you, I had them on the ropes," Steve replies and wipes at his nose from which blood is still spilling over his lips. James watches the red liquid and flexes his metal fist. 

"What did they look like?" He asks casually and Steve looks at him with a slight frown, but starts describing anyways, sweet and trusting like always. For once, James is glad that he is not as good as Steve.

God help him, he is going to kill them all.

////////

The thing is- and he is never going to tell this to Steve- that he still does not feel guilty when he looks through the lens of his sniper rifle and aims at his target. He does not feel much in general whenever he is in this situation.   
Maybe he should.

////////

“What’s this?” James asks and pulls the small box out from underneath Steve’s bed. He has never seen this one, a simple blue shoe box that is filled to the brim with sheets of paper, filled so much that the lid does not close entirely.

“Don’t-“ Steve says and tries to grab his arm before he can open the box, but James is faster than him and pulls out the sheet on top of the stack before Steve wraps his hand around his wrist. It is….a surprisingly detailed sketch of a superhero James has never seen before and he pauses, blinks, before he delicately touches the red, white and blue of the uniform, the blue cowl with small, silver wings. No, not a cowl, he realizes- a helmet, which somehow makes it better. 

There is a shield too, round and sturdy-looking, with a silver star in the middle of three rings, two red, one white. James looks at it in wonder and touches it gently.

Steve fidgets beside him, nervous and anxious, and finally jerks the drawing out of his hands. “I don’t like it when you rummage through my things,” he says and avoids his gaze. “There is not much I hide from you anyways and you shouldn’t be interested in the rest.”

“What is this?” James asks and tries to look through the rest of the box. Steve looks- surprised; maybe he did not expect James to be actually interested in this. Maybe he expected him to laugh or find it weird; the mere thought makes James’s heart clench with pain.

“It’s just—it’s a superhero,” Steve says and James thinks, obviously, but he does not say it out loud. Instead, however, he waits patiently until Steve hesitantly continues, “Captain America. It’s a silly idea, you know, but…I’ve been drawing that one since I was a little kid.”

“Why?”

“I---I just, there’s a lot going on in this world and I want to help make people feel safe and, you know, lift their spirits. It’s not so much that I want to go on a blind rampage and punch Hitler in the face or something, I just- you guys are always out there, helping people where it is needed and I am just…a cooked noodle.”

“A cooked noodle,” James repeats and the corners of his mouth twitch, but Steve looks so positively sullen that he keeps his amusement to himself. Instead, he gathers his lovely boyfriend into his arms and cradles him against his chest. Steve sighs and pushes his nose into the place where James’s shirt falls open.

“It doesn’t matter,” James says when he has finally found words that seem…decent enough to console Steve. “You are very brave. You don’t have to-“ He glances at the drawing again, “Have muscles and a chest like a bodybuilder to be a good person, you know. In fact, many people I know, superheroes even,… they’re not so super all the time. It’s easy to fight against aliens when you have the powers to do it, but someone who regularly gets into fights with people three sizes bigger than him-“

“They’re not that much bigger-“

“-that’s real dedication to people.” James presses his lips against Steve’s soft cheek and inhales with closed eyes. “I don’t care about people the way you do,” He says, quieter now, “I know you think I do, but I really don’t. I don’t always see the good in them. I don’t always want to make a sacrifice to save them. I shoot the bad guys because I’m good at it. I was a bad guy before- dying people are all the same, doesn’t matter much. There was a time when I thought differently, I think, but I’m not that guy anymore. I wish you could’ve met that guy, he was better than me.”  
“That’s not true,” Steve begins heatedly, but James shushes him with a kiss. 

“You know the stories about the Winter Soldier,” he says and thinks of blood trails on snow. “Most of them are true. The point is, you make me- want to change. To be worth your time.”

“You’re already-“

“I’m really not. I wish- I want to be better because of you. That’s your power, Steve, you inspire people. You inspire me. You don’t need to be in a fist fight for that. You’re good.”

“I’m dying,” Steve says. “I’m falling apart in this body.”

“Aren’t we all,” Bucky replies and kisses the top of his head.

//////

“So you’re James,” Peggy says and watches him over the rim of a perfect cup of tea. It is a cliché, really, but James does not mind clichés. Instead, he is on guard around this perfectly dressed woman with brown curls and dark red lipstick. Her smile is sharp like a razor; she reminds James of Natasha, which is sort of good and sort of worrisome. 

Also, it is apparent that she cares a great deal about Steve. 

“Yes,” James replies and leans back against the seat, rubbing over the fabric of the gloves and long sleeves he is wearing to hide the cybernetic arm. Steve is bustling around in the kitchen, humming a melody under his breath that is so quiet that James is barely able to pick it up. Peggy is a very beautiful woman, he reflects and understands why Steve loved her, once- still loves her, only differently. 

Peggy lifts an eyebrow, but her smile softens a little. “You’re not a man of many words,” She says, rather matter-of-factly. 

“No,” James answers and watches her, the way she barely moves from her spot and has her eyes trained on him like a hawk. Definitely not a civilian. “Army?”

“Yes,” She replies, mocking him and smiling in an almost indulgent way. “And I will slice you open and gut you like a fish from the market if you ever dare to hurt him.”

“Peggy, please,” Steve says when he gets out of the kitchen, carrying a tray that sways dangerously in his arms. James watches him closely and only gets up when the tray threatens to tip over, gently taking it from Steve and placing it on the table. “Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

“He can take it,” Peggy says and the corners of her mouth quirk upwards. Somehow, James thinks that she may even start to like him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure people are going to hate me for this chapter, especially because it comes so late and is so short. I am so sorry ;_; Thank you all so much for liking this AU as much as you do!!  
> Enjoy reading! *hugs*
> 
> PS: Kudos to everyone who finds the tiny, reeeeally tiny Bucky Bear reference.

Bucky knows it is dangerous to wrap himself around a single person so much, to pour everything that is, despite everything that happened to him, still well and good in him in one individual, but he cannot help it.

It is as if the sun never shone before Steve. Or maybe he just did not notice it. 

////

The press goes mad when Bucky takes Steve with him to one of the charity events where the Avengers are expected to show up. 

Bucky is relieved to notice that Steve feels as uncomfortable in a suit as he does, even though he wears it with grace. After a silently shared look, they both head to the bar; Bucky gets a plain, simple beer and Steve orders some water. Together, they watch Tony revel in the attention of high society because he was born for it, even though he does not always like him. Steve has a certain fondness for Tony, Bucky knows; _he reminds me of you, in some ways_ , he told Bucky once and Bucky really cannot see the similarities, but he can certainly see that Tony is, after all, a good man with a heart of gold, no matter how scarred it may be. 

Everything is alright until the music changes into something Bucky likes and he asks Steve to dance with him. He used to be good at it, he thinks; muddy memories of whirling and spinning girls around and moving in the rhythm of music, the Thirties, the early Forties. At first, Steve says no, but there has to be something in Bucky's eyes that makes him accept Bucky's hand with a sigh and a smile and step onto the dance floor. Natasha smiles at them while she waltzes by in Clint's arms, both surprisingly graceful in their movements. 

Steve allows him to lead, but only because Bucky really is the better dancer, even if he may not remember why anymore. He should have known that they would draw attention to them; after all, nobody had ever seen him in attendance of somebody else on events like this. 

He can see the people of the press from the corner of his eyes and knows Steve sees them too. There will be questions to answer, speculative newspaper articles to ignore, but all of that can wait; for now, it is just Steve and him, just like it should be. 

////

"This was a good idea," Steve tells him and laughs and puts his head out of the down-pulled window while Bucky drives them along the long, long highway, miles and miles into the horizon.

"Let's just go, chase the sun," He told Steve a few hours ago and Steve looked at him as if he had completely lost it before breaking into a grin and responding with, "Neat."

Fury let him go just like that. Maybe it was something in his eyes. Maybe it was that something missed in his eyes. Bucky does not really care. 

Steve sketches Captain America again while they drive, quick, wild lines on corpse-white paper and this time there is a huge shadow behind him, a bear perhaps, or death, Bucky does not know. 

Steve hums a quiet melody under his breath, briefly showing the lilting accent of his Irish heritage in the words his lips form, as if he tried to remember something that waits at the tips of his fingers.

Bucky wants to know everything, but he does not ask, merely watches and drives them miles and miles into the horizon, wherever that may be. 

////

Steve is a little flustered when he meets Natasha for the first time because he still has not quite mastered the art of talking to a woman that is as beautiful as Natasha. It is endearing and James knows Natasha thinks the same when she smiles down on Steve.

"So you're his secret willowy boyfriend," She says with her strange little smile and clasps his hand.

"I'd like to think that 'infamous' is the better term than willowy," Steve replies and that startles her into quiet laughter. 

"I can see why James is so smitten with you," she says and Steve sneaks his hand into Bucky's and squeezes it, lightly, but with the entire force of passion. 

///

They don't think much about it when Steve passes out in the middle of a tennis match with Thor. After all, it is Thor and it is pretty hot that day. It happens. 

Steve laughs it off and Bucky tries not to fret over him, tries to breathe, but it is difficult under the dread that is slowly creeping into his heart. Still, he is not overly protective, merely observes Steve a little closer in his sleep and strokes his hair, his soft, golden hair. 

///

When Steve passes out the second time while they have lunch with Peggy, it is _not_ the second time, but Bucky only finds out after Peggy asks Steve in a stern voice whether it happened before and Steve answers, _yes, but only like, five times or something_. 

James wonders how he could have missed it. Wonders whether it was his fault for not being observant enough, just once in his life, for being happy enough to not want to see and for a moment, he wants to hide in a dark corner, but he is a warrior, so he just grips Steve's bony shoulder, determined to shoulder everything there might be to shoulder with him. 

"Hospital. ´ _Now_ ," Peggy says and by now James knows her well enough that he can see the fear in her determined eyes. 

///

After the diagnosis, Bucky sits there, numbly, and watches Steve's long, elegant fingers glide over the wooden pearls of the rosary, smoothed by frequent use and age. He does not know if Steve is praying because he does not say a single word, or if he merely does it out of a comforting habit. 

James wants to take the thing and rip it apart, then find a church and destroy it. He does not believe in god, now less so than ever before, but he believes in Steve with his heart and mind and soul and so he just covers his hand with his own, with the gentle force of deep passion. 

Steve looks up at him, smiles and gently squeezes back. It is his metal hand. Bucky does not feel anything besides the mere echo of touch and wants to cry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay. I totally was not inspired at ALL for this fanfic and then I had a shitload to do in RL ;_; I estimate another chapter and then we're done!  
> Thank you all so much for your continued support even though I am such a lazy author, you're fantastic and the best readers someone could ever wish for <3  
> Enjoy! (Or maybe not. Prepare for fluffpain.)

Steve gets thinner. Steve gets colder. James gets him several blankets and thicker sweaters, sits with him and tries to warm up the metal of his cybernetic arm.

Steve rolls his eyes and calls him stupid, but he still allows James to make food, all the time, of all varieties.

////

They are not talking about it, not really, which is completely fine by James. Steve does it for him, he guesses, because Steve has never been one to beat around the bush, which is fine too. Maybe they need not talking about it. 

It doesn’t make it easier, but it doesn’t make it harder as well, which is what James needs because these days, sometimes it is already so hard that he does not know how to breathe. It is not difficult, not really, there are just some additional tasks to their daily routine: Pills in the morning. Steve sleeping longer. A visit in the hospital. Jokes while Steve lies there, very blond and very pale, and gets his infusions. (It is mostly Steve, who jokes, these days, which figures.) James taking Steve home, driving carefully. James making Steve food, tucking him into bed. He gets cold so easily now, even more so than before. Greeting Peggy or greeting Sam, sometimes both. Leaving to fight villains he is no longer interested in.

There is no redemption he wants to get anymore. There is only Steve.

////

“I wish you could have met my mother,” Steve tells him one cold evening; it is autumn, finally, and the leaves tumble through the streets, driven by a strong breeze and chased by merciless rain, all too often ending in the gutter, colors washed out and stomped over by uncaring people. To prevent ending like fallen leaves, they are snuggled together in bed, burrowed beneath two or three cozy blankets; it is too hot for James, but just right for Steve, so he shuts his mouth and is grateful for the little things.

“She wouldn’t have liked me,” James says and it is true; everything he has heard of Steve’s mother indicates that she was a fine woman who had loved her only child fiercely. A woman like that would have never allowed someone like him to come even close to her son. He is a killer, a murderer, a liar and above all this, he is completely helpless in the face of fate. No matter how fearsome he is, no matter how many good or bad people breathe his name in sheer terror in the streets, he cannot do a single thing to make Steve healthier. 

“Idiot,” Steve answers and rolls his eyes, ever so charming, before he coughs and swats James’s cybernetic arm. He feels the impact of flesh on steel; it vibrates through his body, hums through his veins.

Movement is life. 

“She would have loved you,” Steve continues and leans his head against James’s shoulder. “You always think the worst of yourself, Bucky, that’s pretty unhealthy, you know. You’re a good man, the best I’ve ever known.”

 _You haven’t seen me at my worst_ , James wants to say because it is true; Steve has never seen him walking through the snow, silent like the ghost they call him, has never seen him killing without a second thought; Steve is by no means against taking action to keep people safe, but he would not be in favor of the things James has done. Life is dirty, and bloody, and merciless for a person like the Winter Soldier. Maybe it is enough that he has finally found a reason to change, to believe that what he does for S.H.I.E.L.D. sometimes really is better than what he did before because at least no civilians are killed without any given reason. Maybe it is enough that he has the beginning feeling to have scrambled together the broken shards of his personality, of the man he once was and the man he is now, that he started to mend them together, hesitantly, into someone he could maybe, probably like, even if he did not trust that someone any more than before. 

“Steve,” he says hoarsely and he does not know where it comes from, but the idea is so clear before his eyes that he cannot not say anything because he cannot remember the last time he had an idea that made so much sense to him. “Let’s get married. Let’s just. Let’s just do it.”

“Are you _serious_?” Steve asks and James’s heart breaks a little when he implores further, “You sure you want to marry me? Because…”

Because. There is so much to follow this little word and James sees it in Steve’s eyes: the self-doubt, the illness, the...James shakes his head and kisses Steve’s forehead without a second thought. It is funny, he thinks: Before Steve, he was not even capable of shaking hands on bad days. Now he needs, craves physical contact with him. Maybe because life is so fucking fleeting. 

“No because,” he says, “Let’s just do it.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes and looks a little dazed.

/////

They get married two weeks later because there is no time to waste and Tony practically throws his money at them to pay for the wedding. It is not how James wanted it to be: It is autumn merging into winter instead of spring, frost patterns instead of flower polls decorating the windows of the Stark Tower James did not want to get married at, but Tony looked so hopeful that he could not say no. 

Still, the people surrounding them are friends, probably even family by now, and they cheer for them in honest joy. Steve is beautiful, pale and fierce despite the dark circles underneath his eyes and his strawy hair. He is wearing a suit and so is James; a little silly, probably, but fitting. 

There is a brief moment where everything is so hard and difficult that James feels as if he cannot breathe anymore and he almost loses the ring from trembling, nervousness maybe or fear he does not want to admit or think about, but Steve is there- and Steve catches his hand, ever so gently, and guides him, just like he always does.

/////

The press goes nuts, of course, because he doesn’t have the luxury of a hidden identity- the arm is a dead giveaway by any means-, and for a while James sees his own face on every possible magazine cover while the speculations go high. There is nothing he cares less about. Fortunately, so does Steve.

Of course, a journalist has to find out about Steve’s identity and condition and this changes everything. When they start trying to hunt them down in the hospital Steve goes to, James curses and threatens in every direction, ignoring Fury’s orders to stand down so as to not cause a public ruckus. 

Steve decides to get treated by S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors and after a while everything dies down, but it leaves James shaken, for reasons he cannot quite name. 

/////

The doctors start to worry, even though they try to be positive; James is not an idiot and reads between the frown on their faces and their flexing hands. Steve loses more of what little weight he has, sleeps longer, sleeps more often. His grip gets weaker. What strength he has is in his dazzling, blinding smile and the gentleness of his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he tells James, but it is too late; sorrow has already found him, bound him, silently seeping into his heart and cracking it from inside out. He frantically tries to mend everything, once more, to fix it, but at some days he is not sure he can.

While he worries, winter comes and with it comes snow, silent and soft like sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, here we are with our last chapter. It has been an exciting journey- I never expected this story to become so long, so....heartbreaking. I am sorry.  
> I still hope that you all (or at least most of you) will like this chapter. I tried to get a finish I could live with, a finish that does the story justice. I hope I came at least somewhat Close.  
> Thank you all SO MUCH for your support and love for Nightcall! I was and still am very touched by all the lovely comments, Bookmarks and kudos I got. *hugs*  
> Since some people apparently overread the Archive Warnings, here once again: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH in this chapter!  
> And now, enjoy!

"Buck," Steve says and grabs his hand. He is not allowed to leave his bed since the little incident a few days ago and he has always been thin, but now he is only skin and bones and yet still the brightest thing in the room. Someone like Steve will always demand attention in one way or another. Bucky wants to kneel at his feet and worship him like an old god; instead, he sits down next to him. "I want to show you something."

"What is it?" Bucky asks and holds Steve's hand in his own. He craves touch, these days; Steve's sickness partially turns him into a child. When Steve dumps a box onto his lap, he startles a little.

"Go on," Steve says and nudges him. "You wanted to know what's inside there, all the...the sketches." His eyes are bright; these days, Bucky never knows whether it's from fever or happiness. "It's silly, but...you know. I figured that...why the hell not, right? Why the hell not."

"Don't say that as if it wasn't important, punk," Bucky says, but Steve just laughs and watches him lift the lid of the box, watches him as he slowly rifles through the sketches in it. Finally, Bucky looks up and smiles, slowly. He feels raw, torn; the box is full of sketches of Steve, but also not Steve because the drawn Steve is big, bulky, a soldier with a determined jaw dressed in red, white and blue. He carries a shield- of course it is a shield, and not a sword. Steve is a wall, a defender, someone jumping between the innocent and the evil and Bucky wants to cry because here they are and Steve is never going to realize how fantastic and heroic he already is. 

"This is you," he says and Steve smiles, shakily, and shakes his head.

"This is just a dream," he answers very softly and strokes the back of Bucky's hand. "But you could make it reality. You could be what America needs." 

"You're joking," Bucky says disbelievingly. 

"I never joke about these things, jerk," Steve replies and laughs, for a moment brighter than the sun.

//////

They make love, quietly. Quietly, while darkness sits outside their windows. The streets are empty at this time; it is around three o'clock in the morning. Steve has not been able to sleep for the entire night because he was sweating so much, vomiting until he was crying, sobbing from more than exhaustion. The tears did not make him any less stronger, but still every single one of them cut through Bucky's heart.

He took Steve into the bathroom, carried him there. Washed his face, his hair, because Steve couldn't do it himself anymore. Brushed his teeth. He has never been good at being cheerful, so he does not pretend to be. Steve likes that about him; he told him when he wrapped his slender arms around Bucky's neck, starting to smile again because Bucky couldn't. James couldn't. 

They make love, quietly. Bucky holds Steve in his arms while they come together and he looks into his eyes the entire time, thinking about how much he loves him, thinking about how scared he is- he, a murderer, a thief, a monster, a ghost in snow. He is scared and he feels like a failure for not being able to smile when Steve needs it the most. 

Steve falls asleep afterwards. Bucky counts his breaths until the sun starts rising, trading his hand, his human hand, through Steve's fine blond hair.

Strands of gold remain between his fingers. 

//////

When Steve leaves, it is not with a bang. Bucky is there with him; they both knew, right away, and Steve's eyes were calm when he pleaded him to lay down with him, just for a while. Bucky obliged, entwining his fingers with Steve's. There are things he wants to ask, to say, to do, but time is running out and Steve is so tired, so very tired from fighting and fighting and fighting, with tooth and nails and every fibre of will. 

It is no wonder that his frail body has decided to give out underneath such an enormous, powerful personality. That does not make anything better.

At some point, Steve wipes the tears from his cheeks, slowly, with exhaustion, but so much love that it makes words unnecessary. Bucky hates himself for his weakness and hates the God he does not believe in for his cruelty and hates everyone with more time, worthless lives he does not care for, useless people he does not live for because they can do what Steve can't. 

They sleep. Their bodies are entangled, right now, and their minds are with each other, forever. Forever has never been easier to grant and Bucky wants to scream because it is not what he wanted when he wished for decades full of uncertainty and work and dedication and remade promises. They sleep, only they do not; Bucky holds Steve tighter the more Steve lets go and he gets louder the quieter Steve becomes. 

At one point, darkness falls over them with all its silence and he howls like a wounded wolf, howls and cries and weeps and nothing helps. At one point, everything he has done to redeem himself does not matter anymore, everything he did to become a better man is not important anymore. He is alone, and he will be forever alone, and his heart lays in bleeding shards. 

Steve smiles in death, relieved from pain and worries and safe in Bucky's arms. It is the only consolation Bucky can cling to.

/////

Natasha silently cries into her handkerchief at the funeral. Bucky looks at her, her bright red hair on a rainy day, and cannot comprehend because Natasha never cries and he looks over to Peggy, who stands stone-faced beside Sam. Sam weeps openly, torn up from inside like a haunted man, never trying to hide his pain. There are so many people here, he thinks, people who will miss Steve deeply and genuinely, not because he was an Avenger, but because he was a hero in his own way. There are so many people here and James cannot help but think about how ironic it is that Steve always felt so helpless.

They all are lost. It does not help him.

/////

James never recovers.

With time, it gets easier, but that does not make it better. Life is cruel; life has no place for death and people trying to cope with it. Bucky floats through it without care, heart hard as stone; he does not feel much. He functions. His team functions, starts living again, starts accepting death as part of life. 

Bucky can't. So he slips more into James. It does not matter anymore; it is just names, these days, because there is not a single part of himself that has not been broken by Steve leaving him.

It is Peggy, who saves him, shows him a path, strong, hurting Peggy who never lets anyone see her pain but shows it to Bucky that one night when it has been one year without Steve, one year full of things that feel and taste like ashes. 

"He loved you," she says and there is a slight tremble in her red lips, but she shoves the box at him, the box full of Steve's dreams and everything hurts, but it is better now, because he is not alone. "He loved you and he believed in you. But he also loved life and people and he believed in doing the right thing." She looks at him then and smiles full of terrible, terrible sadness. "Bucky Barnes, you are a good man, a wonderful man, capable of doing the right thing. This is not the last chapter in your life. Don't let it be the last chapter in your life." 

//////

He is not a hero and he never recovers. He goes out there and fights not for the people in need, not for himself, not to redeem himself. He does not regret, not anymore, maybe never has. He fights dirty, sometimes brutal, protects those who need him, helps stabilizing order.

In everything he does, he sees Steve's smile. On every person he saves, he sees Steve's hands or blond hair or his incredible humor, his will to live. He learns how to live alone again, learns how to be content, somehow, learns how to wait, patiently, until-

"We'll meet again," he hums while he walks along the Times Square. Steve is with him, always, as present and real as the powerful, round Vibranium shield strapped onto his back.

Maybe they will meet each other in front of the Lord and Steve will smile at him once more. Maybe he will be even proud of him, that punk. 

James looks forward to it.


End file.
